The Road Less Traveled
by Falcon and HM Writer
Summary: Please take a look. It's a serious story about HM.
1. Chapter 1

Round wire, oval wire, round head, masonry, square twisted, annular, cloat head, spring head, cut clasp, hardboard, sprig, block, flat countersunk head, rosehead fine shank, rosehead flat point, rosehead square shank, eavestrough, casing, cleat, hook head metal lath, veneer box nails. Annular thread silicon bronze boat nails, Economy Phillips-head hot-dipped galvanized wood screws, Phillips-head silicon bronze screws. Galvanized iron boat nails...square cut. This was it.

A very shrewd looking man peered at him from behind the counter. Coke bottle glasses, a receding hair line, acicular eyebrows, with a demeaning grimace. "Three dollars." His voice was as asperous as the narrow-fisted look he held. Returning the belligerent look he placed the money on the counter and left.

Walking into the sun he lowered the dark glasses that rested upon his head. The bright southern sun was almost unbearable to the eye during mid day. He tossed the box of materials on the seat next to him and sped out of the parking lot kicking dust in his wake.

With the top down on the convertible he could feel the warmth of the afternoon air on his face. Had it not been for his experience with Korean summers he wouldn't have been able to tolerate the heat in the deep south. A boy from Maine had an easier time with cold than with heat. He slouched in the driver's seat, one arm resting on the door and the other on the top of the steering wheel.

Three lousy dollars for one bag of nails. When had things taken the dive bomber approach? Had they let war take that away from them as well? During the Second World War he had participated in the steel drives, donating whatever little odds and ends that were available. His father had even gone so far as to pitch in an old bumper from his Studebaker. And all for what? So America could squeeze the penny a little harder over ten years later.

It was almost five. He had to pick his wife up at five-thirty from work. The hospital was only ten minutes away. He'd stop and pick up something to drink while he waited in the parking lot. Going upstairs only enticed the nurses and made everyone else nervous.

The sun was beginning it's descent in the west, which only served to put the large star more directly in his line of vision. He found a parking spot off to the side under a shade tree. He got out of the car and leaned against his door as he waited for her. One arm was lying across his stomach as the other held the bottle on his hand. He would glance at his watch every once in a while waiting for the minutes to tick by.

He wiped his brow and stood up straight when he saw her walk out of the building. Quickly he spit out the piece of gum he had been chewing. When she spotted him she smiled brightly causing a wide grin to come across his face, the first since she had left for work that morning. She nodded to people passing by and stopped for a moment to talk to an elderly man in a wheel chair whom he guessed was a patient of hers. She pointed to him and the gentleman nodded his head and bid her farewell.

As he watched her walk toward him, with the sun gleaming behind her, accentuating her shapely body and billowing her blonde hair, he felt a longing in his chest. He had missed her so much. They didn't speak when they met. She could see from across the parking lot how worn he looked. They held one another for a moment and then he kissed her. "Hello dear."

She leafed a hand through his feathery hair before moving it back to rest on his neck. "How are you?" There was a mixed look of sincere concern and contempt on her face.

He took his hand in hers and lifted it to his mouth where he kissed it. "I'm alive."

She tried to smile at him, but it was a sad smile. "Well that's something, isn't it?"

"Not much." He moved her hand to his cheek and held it there for a moment. Her touch always loosened him up inside.

This wasn't one of his better days nor was it one of his bad days. "It's a lot to me," she said softly.

Listening to her and looking at her, he smiled. "Let's go home." Margaret nodded in agreement. He walked her around the car and opened the door for her. "Oh, let me get that." He tossed the box in the back seat.

"Another trip to the hardware store?"

"Yes."

She sat down placing her purse on the floor in the back seat of the car. Already he was quiet. "Were you waiting long?" The traffic of people wanting to stop and talk with her had been heavier than usual.

"No." He didn't mind waiting for her. He'd waited three years for the war to end, two of those to marry her. Twenty-five minutes wasn't anything. "Tell me about your day."

The ride home was just like any other. Margaret talked about the happenings of her day and he idly listened as he drove. It wasn't so much that he cared for all that Army protocol or who said what to who, but more of listening to the sound of her voice. The drive home was probably the most enjoyable part of the day. He felt calm and relaxed. There was nothing but them and Georgia landscape passing by.

He would nod occasionally or mumble a few words if it felt like she was waiting for a response, but that was about it as far as the communication went. At one point she reached out for his hand and they stayed like that right up until he backed the car into the driveway. In the event that this would be one of the many summer nights storms passed through, he put the top up on the car before they went inside.

"Oh, look at those. I've been meaning to water them for the last two days." Margaret commented as she walked up to the front porch. "My poor flowers."

"I'm sure they'll get some tonight." He unlocked the door and opened it for her.

"I don't know." Instead of walking into the house she left him standing there with the door open and went to take a look at the flowers. She knelt down and took a look. "It's been so dry this summer."

"It'll rain tonight."

"This whole yard needs to be watered."

"Come inside." Margaret frowned and stood up. They did need the rain, just not the storms that came along with it. She especially would have been happier watering the flowers herself.

He locked the door behind them as she set her purse on the table and began unbuttoning her jacket. She turned to face him and put a hand on his cheek. "Are you feeling any better?"

He nodded silently. "I'm okay." Her hand moved up to feel his forehead and then pushed through his hair and came to rest on his shoulder. Her thumb caressed a spot on his neck. She hugged him then and sighed against his chest.

"I was worried about you today," she whispered softly.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. It felt wonderful to have her back in his arms like that. It was almost like she kept him from floating away into space. "I'm okay."

He always said he was okay. She would have to read his movements and the way he spoke, but today he wasn't giving her much to work with. "Are you sure?" She pulled back to look him in the eye. He nodded. "I'm not so sure about that."

"It's Friday and I have you to myself all weekend. Why wouldn't I be okay?" He tried to sound light and cheery, but he didn't do so well.

"Are you hungry? I'll make you something special." The night before they had made a trip to the grocery store and stocked the house with food.

"I'm fine right now." He didn't let her out of his arms. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair gently. It was soft and silky, just the way it looked. "I just want you."

She smiled softly and moved her hands up his back. Looking up at him she said, "Come on." She took a step back, letting her hands glide down his arms to take hold of his. "Let's go to the bedroom."

He gave her a tired sort of smile and let her guide him through the house by the hand. As they entered the room she let go of his hand and said to him, "Let me get out of these." Hawkeye sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her as she got out of her uniform.

"Your mother called today," he said as he watched her unfasten the clasp of her skirt.

That intrigued Margaret. Hawkeye and her mother got along fairly well. He seemed to like her enough and her mother just loved him. "Oh? What did she say?"

"Uh..." He rubbed his neck. "Something about your father getting a new post."

"Ah," she nodded her head. "He must have gotten his orders finally." Her skirt fell to the floor and she started working on her garter. Hawkeye's eyes moved up and down her legs. "I know he wanted to come back to the states."

"Great." Hawkeye sounded less than enthused.

She rolled a nylon down her leg. "Don't worry," she turned her head and smiled at him. "We won't be seeing him any time soon." She rolled the other one down as well.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I talked to him earlier this week." She started to unbutton her blouse.

Hawkeye lay back on the bed and watched her movements. "You didn't tell me that."

"It was Tuesday." She tossed the blouse on the floor. "I didn't think it was…"

"I understand." He watched her closely as she bent over to pull out a pair of shorts from her dresser drawer. It was fine by him if she stayed that way, but there was no sense in asking.

"We're not going anywhere, are we?" She turned and looked at him.

"No."

Margaret slipped into the comfortable shorts. She noticed a change in him and went to sit on the bed. "How was your day?"

"Not so bad."

Her hand rested on his leg. "I missed you." He didn't say anything, only looked at her. She crawled up his body and laid hers on top of his. "I'm glad it's Friday."

"So am I." His hands moved to her back.

"Was there anything you wanted to do tomorrow?" She was lying over him, looking into his eyes.

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. "Can we stay like this?" For the first time since they'd last been like that he felt tranquil and self-composed.

"All weekend if you like." She touched her lips to his. He lifted his head off the bed a few millimeters and encouraged the touching. "I overheard a couple of my Lieutenants talking about you today." She lowered her head and kissed his throat, right above his Adam's apple.

"Uhh..." It was more of a deep throated open response rather than a coherent question of interest. It was only when she touched him that he really felt alive.

"They saw you pull up." Her mouth moved to his jaw.

He had taken to waiting outside for her unless they had a lunch date. Gossip seemed the follow the couple wherever they went in that hospital. "Uh huh." He wasn't interested in what she was saying. She could have been singing the alphabet and he would have been happy just to hear her voice.

Her knees were resting on the bed now, on the sides of his hips. She sat back on his stomach and pulled his white t-shirt out of his jeans. "They're envious."

"Oh." He lifted his body slightly allowing her pull the shirt over his head.

"Why is your shirt all greasy?"

"Garage."

She laid her chest back down against his and began kissing his jaw and ear. "You're warm."

His hands worked their way up her sides and around her back. Having her there made him feel safe and calm. He no longer felt restless. He could be in the moment with her. Suddenly she stopped kissing him and pulled her face away from his. He felt a pang surge through his heart and his face illustrated that. "What?"

She eyed him for a moment and looked at the bed. "You didn't get grease allover my new bedspread, did you?"

"No." He'd been on his back the whole time.

Margaret glanced at the bedspread, it looked clean. Her blouse looked a little smudged though. "I have to take my uniforms to the cleaners anyway." She relaxed on top of him again and began kissing his jaw.

"Hmm..." He was feeling especially warm.

Suddenly she lifted her head again and broke contact. "Did you take a nap in here today?"

"No."

"You didn't get grease on the couch did you?"

"Honey, I didn't touch anything."

She nodded a little breathlessly, "Okay." And leaned down and they resumed kissing.

His hands worked up her back and his fingers threaded through her hair. She was all over him. Instead of feeling trapped under her he felt safe and secure. The only restrictions were his pants. He shifted slightly beneath her and then gave her his full attention. He was breaking away from himself now and his hands moved more freely about her body.

Margaret smiled against his lips. He was beginning to move. It was only a matter of moments before he took control. It wasn't often that he felt like he was in control anymore and she loved to see the old spirit come back to him. His hands grabbed her buttocks tightly and he pressed her body into his. The next thing she knew she was on her back with him kissing her as one of his hands moved up and down caressing her thigh.

His other hand was still cupping her left buttock and the rough material of his jeans was pushing in against her crotch. They were kissing with more amour now, including more than just their lips. It wasn't their intention to end up making love, but it was needed. The passion, the closeness, the feeling of moving in cadence.

Sleeping wrapped up in the other's arms wasn't always enough. When he needed her she was always there for him just like she was at the moment. Sometimes the words wouldn't come and she was the one person that completely understood that. She would never ask more of him than he could give.

"I wish we had a color TV."

"I don't know, I think George Reeves looks better in black and white."

The room was dark; all the shades had been pulled shut. The glow of the TV imitated that of a full moon. They were cuddled together in the middle of the couch. Hawkeye had his feet resting on the coffee table with his arm around his wife who was contentedly curled up beside him. They were watching the newest episode of the Adventures of Superman.

"I wonder what color her dress is, or her purse," Margaret commented as she watched the screen. She could just see the different shades of blues and reds manifesting to her. Lipstick colors and hat colors...oh how she wanted a color TV.

"Wouldn't it be wild to see that blue suit and red cape?" When it was like that, just the two of them cuddled on the couch, alone and in each other's arms, he was content and relaxed. He would make comments and stroke her hair, sometimes laugh and take a real interest in what was on the screen.

"Oh, I know," she agreed. "You know, I've always wanted to see if Lucy Ball's hair really was red. For the longest time I thought she was a blonde." Hawkeye smiled at that. "And you know, you never see Lois Lane wearing pants. I don't remember the last time I wore a dress like that."

"You have that white one with the blue polka dots."

"But when was the last time I wore it?" She wore her uniform to work everyday.

"We went to that picnic your friend had a few months ago."

"Exactly, a few months ago. It was so uncomfortable too."

"I thought it looked sexy."

"Maybe." She smiled against him. She did wear it for him that afternoon. He had wanted to stay home in bed and she made him go with her. That dress was the only way she coaxed him out of bed. 

"Maybe..." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh look, he's flying."

Hawkeye smiled and hugged her tighter. He loved how excited she would get over the television. Any special effects had her complete attention. Maybe one day when they had more money he would invest in a color TV for her. She would go crazy.

When the television program was over, Hawkeye got up to open a window and make some popcorn on the stove. They had gone right from the bed to the couch, without so much as fully dressing or considering the option of food.

Margaret watched him walk behind the couch and into the kitchen. She was so envious; he didn't have any hips at all. His underwear was constantly on the verge of slipping off his waist and down his thighs. They just sat there, tempting her to pull them down and stop the cruel teasing. He didn't have gun boat arms like Donald, but when compared, she thought he was nicer to look at. Donald hadn't had his lean frame or hard stomach. Hawkeye's body fit hers as if it were made for that reason, where as Donald had been the wrong puzzle piece trying to force it's way into an irregular slot.

He was standing behind her then. She could feel his hands on the back of the couch. "Would you like something to drink?" He asked quietly.

She turned her head and looked up at him. Putting her hand on his arm she said, "Would you get me a glass of water please?"

"Of course." He leaned over and kissed her lips.

He had been so unsure what kind of a husband he would make to her, but she had assured him time and again that all she wanted was him. He tried to tell her that he couldn't give her what he thought she deserved, but she had convinced him that he was what she wanted. His proposal had been a strange one. It had seemed like he was trying to get her to say no. In reality he was a wonderful husband and hopefully one day he would see that.

Hawkeye came back into the room with a fresh bowl of popcorn and two glasses of water. Margaret reached for the glasses so he could take a seat next to her. "Mmm, smells delicious."

"Well I am a good cook."

She smiled at him. "You have cooked some pretty spectacular meals, but I wouldn't say this is one of them."

"Oh? Then you don't get any." He moved the bowl out of her reach

"Hey!"

"If my popcorn isn't good enough for you..."

"I never said I didn't love it."

"You contradicted my being a good cook." He was still holding it off to the side.

"I just said popcorn couldn't be categorized as spectacular. Anyone can make popcorn."

"But you like it when I make it, right?" He was giving her a sideways glance.

"Of course I do. You add just enough salt and you don't burn the kernels."

"That's all I wanted to hear." He put the bowl back on his lap.

"You men." She handed him his glass.

"Men? How many other men do you sit on the couch with and share a bowl of popcorn?"

She sighed and popped a piece of food in her mouth. "Every once in a while I'll sneak out around three in the morning and find myself someone to watch TV with...just to compare the two of you."

That was not what he wanted to hear. "You really know how to make a man feel...well...used. You're just after me for my popcorn making skills."

Margaret smiled at his teasing. It was nice to have him in a playful mood again. "That's right. It has nothing to do with the fact that I love you. I married you because you know how to make a good bowl of popcorn."

"At least you're honest about it."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "This is a very good dinner."

He returned her kiss. "It was your idea." She hadn't been in the mood for cooking and neither had he. They just wanted to snuggle on the couch.

"But you made it," she told him. "And it's perfect."

He smiled. "Well, I've had a lot of experience." They had popcorn for dinner at least once a week. Usually on nights when it was too hot to cook on the stove or they were just feeling clingy. 

"I know," she gave him another kiss.

"I could go for something else," he said. "How do nachos sound to you?"

That did sound appetizing. Warm cheese and crispy chips..."Wonderful. Make sure to put lots of cheese on them."

He stood up and turned to look down at her. "Hand me your glass, I'll refill it."

"I'll come with you." She stood to her feet. The over sized t-shirt she was wearing covered just the tops of her thighs. "Oh wow," she said when she walked into the kitchen. "It's really hot in here."

"I know."

"Maybe we should invest in another fan."

"It's been a little too hot the last few days. It will cool down again. If we get any more fans we'll have to get a storage bin for the winter. They'll never fit in the garage."

"Not with that thing in there." She filled their glasses up and sat them on the kitchen counter.

"You just wait." Hawkeye pulled out a bag of chips and dumped some in a bowl. 

"I know, I know." She leaned against the counter and watched him. Something outside caught her attention and she went to look out the window above the sink. "It's lightening."

"I told you it would rain tonight."

She watched the sky light up for a moment and saw the dark clouds rolling in at a steady pace. "You were right. How do you always know?"

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "I can feel it in my bones." He kissed the side of her head.

A warm feeling flooded through her. The lightning felt so far away. She smiled and closed her eyes, emitting a small sigh. "Ed Sullivan is coming on in a few minutes," she said eventually.

He kissed the top of her head again and rubbed her arms with his hands before letting go. "These won't take long." He bent down and peered into the oven.

She walked over to where he was crouched and stood behind him so her legs brushed up against his back. "Mmm." He reached around and ran a hand up her leg. "They're so smooth."

"I can't wear nylons otherwise."

He turned a little and sat back on the floor and kissed her knee. "I could forget the nachos for this."

"Don't let them burn," she pointed to the oven.

His hands ran up her smooth legs and he tried to pull her down. "It's a lot cooler on this tile."

"I'm sure." She was still standing, not giving into him. 

"Join me." He touched her hands softly and threaded his fingers through hers. 

She smiled and shook her head no. "On the dirty kitchen floor?"

"I beg your pardon! I mopped this floor this morning." He pulled on her hands and she went down to the floor with a big grin. "See, isn't it better?" He sat back against the cabinet doors, pulling her onto his lap so she was straddling him. "Much cooler, isn't it?" 

"Somewhat." She sat back on his legs and took a good look at his face. His eyes were shining and there was a nice little grin on his lips. "Your hair is messy," she finally said. She brushed it out of his face. "I like to be able to see you when I look at you."

"You messed it up, not me."

She had leaned in and kissed his lips, stifling any further conversation. "Mmm."

"Mhmm." She was threading her fingers through his hair as they kissed. They had to stop before they ended up making love on the kitchen floor. It was tempting...bare skin on the cold tile. That was almost as inviting as the pleasure that would come with it. "Baby..." He broke the kiss but she only moved to nibble on his ear. When she started licking his neck he put his hands on her shoulders. "Margaret..."

"Hmm..."

"The nachos are going to burn." 

"Mmm Hmm."

She was turning up the heat on him. The floor didn't seem as cool. "Stop."

Stopping didn't seem as fun, but she did it anyway. She could feel the heat from the oven on her back. The tone in his voice wasn't quite what she was expecting either. She pulled her mouth away with one last kiss on his lips and sat back on his thighs. "Stopped."

He smiled at her and gave her a kiss. "I think the floor was a better idea then I thought."

"Maybe later." Now she could smell the nachos. 

All he wanted to do was turn the oven off. "What?"

She stood up and opened the oven. "Oh wow. Feel that heat?"

"Nothing like a moment ago," he mumbled.

She smiled to herself. "I think they're ready to come out."

Hawkeye put on two oven mitts and pulled the tray out. The cheese was bubbling and popping. Luckily they didn't look too brown. "They look okay." He hadn't turned the heat up very high. Hawkeye set the tray on the stove.

"They look delicious," Margaret purred and carefully pulled one off the top. The hot cheese stretched and pulled along with the chip. Upon biting into it she gasped, "Ooo, it's hot."

"That's because they just came out of the oven."

"Mmm, but it's good." She took a tiny bite off the tip.

Taking off the oven mitts he said, "We should let them cool for a minute."

Margaret was working her way around the bubbling cheese. "O-kay."

He smiled to himself as he watched her. She was certainly encouraging. "Don't burn your tongue."

"Don't worry; I'll let you kiss it if I do."

"You do and you might regret it." He was standing in the middle of the kitchen in only his underwear and she was wearing his shirt. There were no real barriers of clothing to stop him from finishing what she started on the floor.

"I never have so far." She smiled and blew on the cheese before popping it into her mouth.

He winked at her. "I aim to please." He reached in the pan and grabbed one, blowing on it before taking a bite.

"Not always."

"What?" He turned and eyed her.

"We should bring these back in the living room so we can watch TV."

"I have a better idea." He took the chip out of her hand and put it down. Then he pulled her into his arms kissing her neck. "Let's get back to the floor."

"You were the one that wanted to stop." She smiled when he hit a ticklish spot.

"Only to shut the oven off." He kissed her throat.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"The food isn't going anywhere." His breath was warm on her neck.

It wasn't very often that he was in a mood such as this one. She worried about him constantly. His depression could have such a hold on him at times. "But..." He was hard to resist. 

"Mmm..." He had dipped his head lower.

"Ahhh," she gasped in surprise. Suddenly the intro to the Ed Sullivan Show could be heard emitting from the other room. "It's starting!" She exclaimed and pulled away from him.

All of a sudden she was out of his arms. He was left standing there confused and alone. "Perfect," he grumbled. What was wrong with missing The Ed Sullivan Show to make love? 

"Will you bring in the food?" She yelled from the other room.

He sighed heavily. He wasn't sure if it was him or her. One minute she was all over him and then the next she ran off to go watch a television program. He grabbed the plate of food and the two glasses. When he walked in he sat the food on the couch cushion next to her and handed her water to her. "There."

"Thank you." She had fully expected him to sit down next to her and watch the show just as they had been before. It caught her off guard when she looked and he was no where to be seen. Maybe he made a stop in the bathroom. She was sure he would be back.

Margaret watched the monolog and still Hawkeye wasn't there. That's when she thought something might be wrong so she got up and went to find him.

She found him in the bedroom sitting in the darkness on their bed. He was hunched over with his elbows on his thighs and his hands in his hair. Almost instantly she grew worried. "Honey?" She called to him softly as she stood in the doorway. He didn't answer, he didn't even move. "Ben?" Margaret walked across the room and sat on the corner of the bed. She put a hand on his back and rubbed it soothingly. Margaret tried for a third time, but still she got no response.

His mood could change instantly and without much warning. At times it was difficult to know how to respond and how to push or pull him out of certain moods. She tried to lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek, but he only moved his head away. Her hand was still rubbing his back; he wasn't saying anything but he wasn't trying to stop her from doing that. She had hoped his day was a good one, and he had said he had been okay but this was telling her otherwise.

"Ben," she said in a whisper. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk." 

This was going to be tough. She didn't want to aggravate him, but at the same time she didn't want to let him be. Margaret sat closer to him and wrapped her arms around his body. "Honey please, talk to me." She felt his shoulders and back muscles tighten, but he didn't say anything. "I'm right here." She leaned in and kissed the back of his neck. But that seemed to be the wrong thing to do. Before she had time to react he had ripped himself away from her and was on his feet.

"Don't touch me."

She sat there on the bed for a moment to see what he was going to do. He walked over to the dresser and leaned on it looking at himself in the mirror. He wouldn't look over his shoulder at her nor would he look at her through the mirror. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Don't talk to me." His tone was deep and firm.

Margaret sat there, her hands in her lap looking on helpless as he pushed her away. Looking at him like that made her heart ache for him. He seemed to be fine earlier that evening, but that didn't really matter anyway. His moods didn't have a pattern and even so more often than not she could sense when they were coming on. This one took her by surprise. It was hard to get close to him when he was insistent on pushing her away.

"Did I do something?" She asked him softly.

He was looking out the window into the night. He had a restless look to him; his hands were planted on his hips and his hair was disheveled. "Go back and watch your show," he told her lowly. She could hear a certain darkness and weariness in his voice.

She looked at him oddly for a moment. Could it possibly be the show? "I'd rather be with you."

He sighed deeply and shook his head. "Just go." She made it clear where she wanted to be. She had a choice between him and a dumb television show and she picked the TV. 

"Ben..." She stood to her feet and walked over to him. She tried to put her arms around him, but he pushed her away again. "I would never pick..."

"Margaret," he said firmly. "Get away from me." His words came out slow and deep.

"I just want to help you."

"You can help me by getting out." He turned and looked into her eyes.

Margaret was slightly taken aback. Even in the darkness she could see the anger in his eyes. She knew he would never hurt her, but there was something frightening in this. "Honey..." 

"Margaret..." There was a hint of danger in his voice.

"Sweetheart, I love you," she told him softly.

Her tone of voice was breaking his barriers. He never wanted to hurt her. "I know."

"I just want to help."

"Margaret go." He was still standing strong.

Tears started to form in her eyes, but she kept that from him. All she ever wanted to do was help him but he could be so hard headed about it. "Please." She knew if she could just get him to soften up some then he would talk to her.

"I don't need you right now."

"That's not true." A tear slid down her cheek. A few years ago she would have taken something like that to heart, but she knew he didn't mean it. She knew how much he loved her and needed her.

Hawkeye closed his eyes for a moment trying to will his harsh feelings away. They weren't meant for her and she shouldn't have been on the receiving end of them. He was mad at himself now for always hurting her. His hand moved to his forehead and he scratched the top of his head. That was when he opened his eyes and looked directly into hers.

He loved Margaret more than anything, even more than his own life. She was all he had. She was all he ever wanted. And here he was, pushing her away. He didn't want to hurt her, but it seemed like he always ended up doing that in the end. Hawkeye hated himself for that, he really did. He felt like such a terrible husband, she deserved a man so much better. Why was she with him anyway? The sex seemed to be the only answer he could divulge, he wasn't good for anything else.

"Ben?" Her voice was soft and her eyes were looking right into his. She wasn't sure if he was looking at her or staring right through her into space. 

Hawkeye saw three tears roll out of her eyes and down her face. Without thinking he reached out and brushed them away with thumb; first the left side and then the right. "Don't cry." The first word came out hoarse, but the second was soft and tender; almost a whisper.

Her hand gripped his wrist forcing him to continue touching her face. He stiffened at first, but soon relaxed and cupped her face in his hand. She let go of him. His eyes met hers again, then moved lower to her lips. He ran his thumb across her full pink lips and then leaned in and kissed her. She closed her eyes at his touch, forcing another tear out of her eye. When the salty water rolled down and came in contact with his cheek he kissed her harder. How could he push this woman away? 

They parted lips, but remained close. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Margaret moved her arm around his shoulders and held him close against her. Much to her relief, he didn't pull away, but seemed to be drawn to her. "Why don't we lie down?" She suggested softly. Still pressed against her, he nodded silently.

When she moved out of his arms he was reluctant to let her go. That was a step in the right direction. Margaret pushed back the covers and lay down. She pulled on his hand to get him to lay down with her. When he moved she pushed closer toward the center of the bed so he would have room. His mouth opened and he started to say something, but he gave up.

"Come here." Her arms were open to him. She was open to him. 

There were not words to express how much she meant to him and he felt that no matter what he did he never once managed to express how much he loved her. He lay on his side and looked at her. "I...Margaret...you..." He sighed deeply, frustrated by his lack of words.

"It's okay. I know." She noticed his eyes were beginning to moisten. 

She rubbed his arm soothingly, running her hand along his forearm and bicep. He closed his eyes again and took a calming breath. All he needed was to be reassured that she was there. Her touch was comforting; he usually fell asleep when she did so. "I'm sorry," he breathed. His eyes were still closed. Her caressing was putting him at ease.

"Shhh." They didn't need to talk. She knew.

Her hand went up to his shoulder and around to caress the back of his neck. She moved closer so she rub his back, his muscles were so tense. After a while she felt his breathing go shallow and he relaxed against her. Her fingers moved under the elastic of his shorts and ran along his waist line until she reached his hip. Moving her hand up his side, she began rubbing his back again.

He started to relax inside and let go of the anger he had been holding onto. He hadn't actually been mad at her, just in general. His temper would flare up at the littlest things. Some people looked at him like he was crazy, but she had never done that. Not once. Without her he would be lost and alone. 

After a few moments she felt his body begin to relax. His eyes stayed closed as he moved closer to her, laying his head on her chest. She scratched his head gently as he drifted off to sleep. Margaret knew it was the first time he had really been calm in the past few days. He had been very restless, and it didn't seem to be getting any better.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Rushing waves broke against the deck, tossing and pulling at the small ship, as huge swells of icy water rose and crashed into the hull. She gripped the railing as tight as she could, holding on for dear life, for fear she would be washed overboard and plunged into the darkness below.

But as hard as she tried, she was slipping, her firm grip wasn't holding. As hard as she tried, she couldn't find anything to grasp onto. The water had its hold on her, pulling her down with it. It was just too cold and too strong. Her hands were slipping, she couldn't hold on much longer...

Wait a moment, she wasn't on any boat.

And yet why was it that she felt as if she were struggling against something?

"Ahhhhh!"

Margaret opened her eyes suddenly. "Hawkeye!" He was wrestling with her, lifting her by the waist and pulling her with him as he rolled over. "Honey!" He was holding her so tight.

"Ahhh! No! Please! Ahhhhhhhhh!" His screams were piercing. She could hear the distress and terror in her voice. "Aaaaaaah!" He lifted her again and pulled her over him. Her body was diagonal to his and his grip on her hips was so strong. Her head landed with a thud against the mattress as her lower body landed on top of him. She was staring up at the ceiling in shock.

She thought he had stopped, but again he tried to move taking her with him. Margaret struggled against him trying to pull his hands off her. "BEN! Wake up." She tried to peal his fingers away, but they were stronger than hers. He was pressing into her flesh too hard. "Honey, stop." She finally managed to turn and face him, trying to pin his body down with her own. "Hawkeye," she yelled. After several more minutes of him thrashing beneath her she finally had him locked down, or so she thought. She found herself on her back pinned under him. It took all she had to push him off her. He landed next to her on his back.

Margaret sat up looking over him. She was breathing heavily from fighting against him. His body was covered in sweat. He was trembling and muttering incoherently as he tossed and gripped at the sheets. The screaming had stopped for the most part, but now he was whimpering. Unfortunately, this was all too familiar to Margaret.

She put a hand on his face and another on his shoulder to try to still him. "Ben." He was locked in the nightmare. "Honey, wake up." He turned his head and struggled under her weight.

"No!" He shouted abruptly. "No!" He tried to lift his arm to swing out, but she held him down.

"Hawkeye!" 

"Ahhh!" He screamed, this time louder. "Please! No!" That's when he started crying. "Margaret!" He shouted. "Margaret!" He cried her name out again and again.

She shook him as hard as she could, calling out his name and caressing his hair. "I'm here, it's just a dream. I'm here."

"Stop! No!" His head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. 

"Shhh." She tried to be soothing. "Honey, you're okay. I'm right here with you." She hated this. He was tormented in his sleep and she couldn't wake him up; she couldn't save him. "Hawkeye, wake up." His back arched up and he shouted some more. "Please wake up." She shook his shoulders again trying to jolt him out of it.

A second later his eyes popped open. His body jumped and then he realized what had happened. He was almost hyperventilating. "Oh God." He was looking into his wife's eyes wondering what he had done this time. She looked so scared.

"It's okay."

"No," he cried. "It's not okay. I'm not okay." He sat up and held onto her tightly.

Margaret wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could. He was crying uncontrollably against her chest, holding onto her in a way that scared her. "I'm here," she said over and over as she stroked his hair. "I've got you."

Eventually she was able to lie him down again, but he clung to her with his arms and his legs, lying mostly on top of her. The crying had started to subside, but the trembling hadn't. She was also growing increasingly worried over how hot he was. He was so sweaty, his body was burning up.

She continued to hold him and speak softly to him assuring him that he was okay and so was she. As she continued to speak to him he started to calm down more and more. It was all she could do for him when this happened, but sometimes what she could give him wasn't enough. Not enough for her anyway. She wanted to fix his problems and make him whole again, but all she could do was be there to hold him together when all else failed. 

Margaret had tried to get him help, tried to get him to seek help on his own, but he didn't want anything to do with it. He told her over and over that all he needed was her and maybe some patience from her. To Margaret that didn't seem like enough. She wanted to do so much more, but was left practically helpless. As long as her husband was in pain she would never feel like she was doing all she could.

The trembling started to calm down some now, but he still had a tight hold on her. She wanted to try to get him up and get him to cool off some. "Honey..."

"No." He kept his face buried in her neck. He didn't want to talk, by the pitch of her voice he knew she was getting ready to try to make him talk.

"I'm just going to get a wet washcloth," she told him as she ran her fingers through his damp hair. "You're burning up." She moved her hand down to the side of his face.

"No," he mumbled. He didn't want to let her go.

"I'm not going to even leave the room," she reassured him. "I'll be right back." He was reluctant to let her go, even if it was for a moment. She was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Just lie back," she told him as she sat up. Brushing some hair from his face she said, "I'm not going anywhere." His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep them open. "Okay." She had just a few minutes before he realized he was alone.

Margaret got up and opened the window, allowing a gust of wind to blow into the room. Outside it was still raining, harder than it had been earlier, as the wind howled and pushed against the trees. The storm outside cooled the temperature unlike the storm inside her husband. She looked over at him for a moment before quickly running into the bathroom. She snatched up a clean clothe and ran it under the cold water. As she was wringing the water out she looked around the corner back into the bedroom to see if he was okay. He was sitting up looking around in a panic.

"I'm right here." She rushed back into the bedroom.

"You said you weren't leaving me." His eyes were filled with tears.

"I didn't." She sat down on the side of the bed. "Lay back down." 

He sat straight up resisting her. "Are you going to lay with me?"

"I always do," she whispered. "Lay down."

"No."

"I'm not going anywhere," she tried to assure him. "Come on, lie down." She rubbed his back.

"You promise?" He asked wearily. He was feeling feverish and his whole body ached.

"I'm right here." She stroked his hair.

Her touch was making him feel delirious. He nodded wordlessly.

Margaret took the lead and lay down. As soon as she was there he laid down next to her, resting his head on her chest. She began patting the cold cloth on his face and head. "Is this helping?"

"Mmm hmm." His arm was wrapped around her holding tight. 

"You're okay now."

"No."

"Yes you are. I have you now. You're awake and you're with me."

He nodded. His insides were still spinning, but he could feel them slowing a bit. The longer she held him the stronger he became. He hoped one day he could be just as strong for her. "It was so real, Margaret." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" She rubbed the cloth down his neck and across his shoulders.

He breathed in deeply. The cold wind enhanced the effect of the wet cloth. "No," he sighed. He didn't want to relive it again.

Margaret wasn't about to pressure him, she knew the answer anyway. "How are you feeling?" 

"Terrible," he moaned. He was hot and achy and nauseous.

"Roll over," she told him. "You're not getting the breeze."

"I'm fine," he grumbled against her chest.

"You're soaking wet," she said. "You need to cool down."

Reluctantly he rolled over onto his back; the cool air did feel nice. She moved the cloth over his face again and down to his chest. She could feel his heart beating rapidly, but it wasn't anything like it had been when he had first woken up. 

Hawkeye stopped her movements by placing his hand on her wrist. "I need to go outside."

She looked at him. "No you don't."

"Margaret."

"You don't need to go." She pulled her hand from his grip and moved the cloth back to his face. "What you need is to lay here and cool down."

He wasn't going to fight with her over it at the moment. "I will."

"Good." She leaned over and kissed him. His body was so hot that the cloth wasn't even cool anymore. "I'll be right back."

"Don't go."

"Just for more water."

"No." He took the cloth from her and tossed it away. "Just stay here with me."

"You need to cool down. I'll just..."

"Either stay here with me or let me go outside."

"If you got outside you'll be alone, I won't go with you," she told him.

"I can't stay in here," he said through gritted teeth. His eyes were beginning to water. "Please, you can't leave me," he begged. "Please, just don't leave me." He put his arms around her waist and laid his head on her lap.

It always broke her heart when he did that. "I'm here." She rubbed his back.

"Will you stay with me all night?"

"Of course." She was still worried about his fever though. "Are you cold?" She thought the wind felt icy.

"No." He felt so comfortable lying in her arms.

She knew otherwise, he was shivering. "Maybe I should change the sheets." They were damp.

"No," he protested.

"Will you at least take those off?" She wanted to dry him off before he fell asleep.

"Yeah." He didn't make a move to take them off though. He stayed there and held onto her.

"Look, maybe we should change the sheets. We'll both sleep better."

"I don't want to sleep." He was so tired, but he didn't want to dream anymore. 

"You'll be okay. Come on. We'll do it together." She looked down at him waiting for a response. "Hmm?"

He sighed deeply. "Okay." He was just beginning to realize how wet the sheets really were and that his boxers were soaked. 

Hawkeye stood up and followed his wife out to the linen closet in the hallway. She took down some sheets and then he followed her back. Margaret started to strip the bed while Hawkeye looked on. He was standing behind her watching. "Why don't you take those off now?" She didn't need to turn around to know that he was just standing there. He was always so lost when this happened. "I can get you another pair if you like."

"I can do it," he snapped.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Okay. Do you want to toss these in the bathroom too?" She passed the old sheets into his arms.

For a moment he just stood there, not wanting to leave the room. Finally he walked over to the bathroom doorway and threw them in there on the floor.

She started with the top sheet then and began fixing the hospital corners. "Should I put the blanket back on?"

"No." He was feeling much too warm as it was.

She tucked the last one under and then started with the pillow cases. "Take those off," she nodded to his shorts. "You should have some clean ones in your drawer." He had that blank expression on his face again. "Darling..." She tossed the pillows on the bed and walked over to him. He was just standing there, looking like he'd been run through the washer and punched in the stomach. Margaret pulled his boxers down and let them fall to the floor.

"Ah," he breathed. "I'll just stay like this.""If you want." She brought him back to the bed and they lay down. She pulled the top sheet over the two of them while he found a comfortable place to settle. His head ended up on her chest again and he wrapped one leg over hers, giving her a full body hug. "Are you okay?"

"Getting there," he yawned.Margaret was softly stroking his hair. She could feel his face cooling down some. "I love you."He looked up at her face. Why did this woman love him so much? Why did she take care of him like this? "You won't fall asleep before me, will you?"

"No," she told him softly. "Go to sleep. I'm here."

"And you won't leave me before I wake up?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. "I'll be here."

He laid his head on her chest again and snuggled against her a little more. She stroked his hair and back repetitiously until he finally fell asleep. Finally, nearly an hour later, so did she. Throughout the rest of the night he continued to have little episodes, although nothing was as bad as the first. She always awoke at the slightest movement or noise, readily afraid that he was going to wake up screaming.

By the time morning came, and the sun appeared over the horizon, Margaret was exhausted. He had finally fallen asleep again, this time into a deep and dreamless slumber. Hawkeye always slept better during the day then he did at night.

With him sleeping peacefully she finally allowed herself to relax and join him. They were both clutching to the other for dear life and stayed just that way until they woke late that morning. She wanted to let him sleep longer, but he tightened his grip at her movement. "Stay," he mumbled.

"It's nearly eleven o'clock." She knew that he needed to get out of bed now otherwise he'd stay there all day. He had a hard enough time normally.

"So." He didn't care as long as she was there with him. At least if they were in bed he could hold onto her. Sometimes he felt like he'd drift away without her.

"You'll feel better after a shower and something to eat." She tried to sound encouraging, but her sleepy voice wasn't helping.

"I'm fine."

"I suppose I could get up and you could stay here." He opened his eyes. "If that's what you really want."

"Margaret," he groaned.

"Ben, you need to get out of this bed. There are things we have to do."

"No there isn't."

He had her there. Their schedule was pretty much clear for the weekend. "The lawn needs to be mowed."

"No it doesn't." He had taken care of that. She was just looking for a way to get him up.

Margaret sighed. "Well I'm getting up." She couldn't stay there all day like that. It was depressing.

She went to move, but he held her in place. "I thought you liked to stay in bed with me."

"You know I do," she told him sincerely. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "We can still cuddle on the couch or in the tub."

Hawkeye wanted to be everywhere she was. He wasn't going to leave her side at all for the next two days. "Okay." It was better than being alone in bed.

"Do you want to shower now?" She ran her hands up and down his arms.

"No."

"Okay, well how about I pour us some juice and we can curl up on the couch?" Coffee only seemed to make things worse now. The caffeine kept him up all night and only appeared to intensify his anxiety.

Hawkeye nodded slowly. "Okay."

He lifted his arm and she got up. It took some motivation, but he climbed out of bed and together they walked to the kitchen. He stood right behind her as she poured them each a glass. "Did you want to put on a pair of shorts before we sat down?" He was standing so close to her that their thighs were touching.

"No."

Margaret turned and handed him a glass. "Excuse me." She needed a little more room than he was giving her. She placed the carton back into the refrigerator and when she turned around he was right there next to her. "Honey," she touched his face gently and gave him a kiss. "Are you hungry?"

"No." He put the glass to his lips and realized for the first time just how thirsty he was. 

She reached for her glass and gave it to him before going back to get the juice out again. "Should I bring this with us?"

"Just fill them up." He held the empty glasses out. 

"Just enough," she said as the last drops emptied into the glass. 

"What do you think of going outside? It looks nice out."

"No," she responded immediately. She knew exactly what he wanted.

"We could go for a run," he suggested.

Margaret knew he wasn't in any condition to do such a thing. He looked like he was about to pass out as it was. "Why don't we just cuddle together on the couch?"

"Okay." 

"Maybe later we can take a nap." Hawkeye nodded. She took her glass back and walked out into the living room. He pulled the blanket off the top of the couch and sat down beside her. "Aren't you cold?"

"No, it feels good," he told her.

Margaret put her hand and his arm and then his face. "You still are a little warm." He had no regard for his own well being. She would find bruises on his legs or the odd cut on his arm, and he never seemed to have a recollection of it. He never whined or complained, only when it concerned her.

"I'm okay." As long as he wasn't locked in another nightmare he was fine. If he could see that she was safe then he was okay. 

"No you're not." 

"Honey, there's nothing wrong with me... at least not on the outside."

"Oh, don't say that." She couldn't stand when he said things like that. There wasn't anything wrong with him. 

"It's fine. Will you put this over there?" He handed her the glass.

She took it and waited for him to settle down. After trying to get comfortable he finally settled with his head in her lap looking up at the ceiling. "Are you good now?"

"Yeah." He was still so tired. If she wouldn't let him stay in bed he would just fall asleep on the couch. 

"Do you want me to get you something?" She wished he would drink more juice. He was awfully dehydrated after sweating so much.

"I'm fine." And he was when he was with her.

"How's your head? I can get you something for it."

"Honey, I'm okay." He was just tired and frazzled.

"I'm just making sure." She really was worried. "I love you, you know."

Hawkeye smiled. He was relieved to hear that. "I love you too."

She was so glad to see that smile again. He didn't let it show often enough these days, but when he did she felt like everything would be okay. Margaret bent down and kissed him. She smoothed his hair back off his face to get a good look at him. "You know what will make you feel better?"

"Hmm?" She was the only thing that could make him feel better, but he'd humor her and let her speak. The sound of her voice was comforting.

"A nice shower."

"Not yet. I like things the way they are right now." 

"Okay." She only wanted him to feel better. Eventually he'd have to do something on his own because when Monday morning came and she had to return to work she wanted him to be able to function on his own. When he had bad days it was hard for him to be without her and she knew that. Part of her loved when he was clinging to her because she knew he needed her, but then part of her wanted to make him let go some for his own well being. But for the moment things were just fine the way they were. 

She spoke softly to him about mundane things hoping it would bring him back to where they were instead of where his mind was. His mind was in the past and she wanted him to be able to be with her in the present without worrying about what happened at another time. Her greatest hope was that one day the two of them would be able to do that, but it was going to take time to get there. 

His responses weren't much and after a while they stopped. He had fallen back to sleep. At least this time he was peaceful. She sat there for a while watching him thinking about the two of them, mostly him.

Margaret sat there for nearly an hour, watching television and stroking his hair as he slept. She had contemplated getting up, but she didn't want to disturb him. He was a very light sleeper and would awake at the slightest movement. For the first time since that morning he was reasonably calm.

Eventually, she too fell asleep. She had spent the greater part of the night lying awake, waiting for the moment when he would cry out again. 

When he woke up he fully expected to be alone on the couch. He didn't think she would fall asleep like she had. Hawkeye sat up and laid her down on the couch so she would be more comfortable. He stood there for a moment looking at her, noticing for the first time how drained she looked. He had done that to her, he was sure of it. When they went to sleep the night before she didn't look like that, but now she looked like she too had been run through the washer and it was all because of him. He was supposed to take care of this woman and he didn't fell like he was doing it well.

He covered her with a blanket and really noticed for the first time that he was still naked. He walked over to the window deciding he didn't care if anyone was nosy enough to look in. It was starting to look like the storm had passed. There was a break in the clouds, but another storm didn't look too far behind. That was fine by him. Being cooped up inside with his wife sounded pretty good. 

He heard her move and looked over the back of the couch to see she had turned over onto her side. Watching her, he felt the guilt set in again. She never had time to be happy; she was constantly worrying over him. There were times when he thought she would be better off without him, at least then she'd be happy. Then again, who was he kidding? He'd blow his head off if she left him.

"What time is it?" He looked down to find her looking up at him.

"Um..." He had to think. His mind had been else where. "Oneish."

Margaret stretched. "Have you been awake long?" She asked through a yawn.

"No."

She lay there, feeling somewhat refreshed, and looked up at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." It was a lie. He was feeling increasingly guilty.

"How about that shower now?" She asked him. At the moment nothing seemed better on a rainy day then talking a hot, steamy shower with her handsome husband. 

He shrugged his shoulders. "If you want." He was less than enthused at the idea.

"Don't you want to take a shower with your wife?" 

"I do." He bent over the back of the couch and gave her a kiss. "How are you feeling?"

"Depends how you're feeling." His face was still close to hers.

"Ah." 

Margaret put her hand to his face. "You feel cooler."

"Yeah." He stood up breathing heavily. "I'm going to step outside for a bit before it starts to rain again."

"Don't go." She caught his hand before he moved too far away. "Stay with me."

He knew her intentions were good, but he had to go. "I'll be right back. You can come with me."

"No thank you." She didn't want to give him any indignation that she approved.

"Why don't you start the water and I'll be there in a minute," he suggested.

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan to go out there naked?"

Hawkeye looked down, he'd momentarily forgotten about that. "No," he said blankly.

"Just come with me," she urged him as she picked up his hand. Hawkeye hesitated. "You can't tell me you don't want to take a shower with your naked wife."

And be dejected when they were about to make love again? "Well..."

"Come on," she stood up.

He thought about it for a moment. "I won't be long." She looked at him in that disappointing look she had. "I need it."

"No you don't."

"Margaret..." His voice was warning. He wasn't in the mood to hear it.

She wasn't going to fight with him. "I'll wait for you in the shower then."

He nodded and walked away to the back of the house. There were some shorts on the dryer that he could slip on quickly. He hated the way she always made him feel so guilty. Hawkeye stepped out onto the back porch alone.

Margaret stood alone in the shower, feeling guilty for...well she didn't know. She had come to the conclusion that she had done something wrong, and that was why he didn't want to be with her now. Why couldn't she do more? Perhaps what she was doing now wasn't enough. Maybe he didn't really need her and she was just clinging to him.

Taking a shower alone on a Saturday morning wasn't something she was accustomed to. During the week, yes, but not on the weekend. The weekends had always been a time for the two of them to be together, even in the shower. Even if they didn't shower together they were at least in the same room. Now he wasn't even in the house. She didn't want to read too much into it, but she couldn't help it. Before he fell asleep he was asking her not to leave him, but now he seemed satisfied to be alone and pass up the chance to shower with her. 

After washing her hair she began to soap up her body. She noticed a little tenderness on her hip that hadn't been there before. It didn't hurt, but it was noticeable. Since he didn't seem to want to shower with her she got out and wrapped a towel around herself. She had given him plenty of time already. She could take a hint.

Hawkeye walked into the bathroom and stopped when he saw her. "You're out already." He sounded shocked.

"Yes. I wasn't sure if you were going to come."

"I told you I would." He seemed a little confused.

"I waited for nearly fifteen minutes," she told him. Margaret didn't want to appear cool, but the fact was he had disappointed her.

"I'm sorry." And he seemed it. "I hadn't realized I had been out there that long."

"You couldn't decide to come in when you got cold?"

"The wind felt good," he told her.

Margaret noticed that his nipples were hard and his skin was flushed. She could only imagine what he looked like under those shorts. "I'll set you out a clean towel for when you get out," she said as she tried to move past him.

"What?" He furrowed his brow. "Aren't you going to shower with me?"

"I washed while I was waiting for you."

He caught her arm. "Please, take one with me."

She looked at him and sighed. Maybe she had made a big deal over nothing. "I'm already dry."

"Oh." His eyes looked away from her. He didn't want to be hurt by that, at least he didn't want her to know.

"I'll start the water for you." She slipped out of his grasp and moved to the tub. "I hope you don't catch something." Why didn't he ever think of himself? 

"I'm fine. I'd be a lot better if you'd shower with me." He sat down on the side of the tub and looked up at her. 

"I didn't think you wanted to."

"Margaret, when have I ever passed up the opportunity to shower with you?" 

She thought for a moment. "I guess you haven't."

"Is there any reason I would start now?" She shook her head. Hawkeye stood up to kiss her, but she turned her head away. "What?" He was stunned. He had never thought that she would push him away like that. 

"I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth."

He'd momentarily forgotten about that. "I'm sorry."

Changing the subject back to their previous one she said, "You weren't so eager to shower with me earlier."

"I was tired; it didn't mean I don't want to be with you." He really wanted her to stay with him.

"Don't forget to scrub your tongue."

Hawkeye picked up his tooth brush. "Please honey."

She couldn't have said no to him even if she wanted. "I guess there's no such thing as too clean."

Hawkeye smiled at her over his shoulder. "Good." He mumbled as he started to brush his teeth.

Margaret dropped her towel and got back into the warm shower. She felt a little silly for not waiting for him. He would have waited forever for her before he gave up. "We need another bar of soap."

"Huh?" He turned around.

She poked her head out from behind the curtain. "There's some under the sink." He was looking very confused. "The soap."

"Oh." He nodded. He rinsed his mouth out and then grabbed a new bar. "Do I need mouthwash?" He handed her the soap.

"It wouldn't hurt."

He'd do anything to get back into her good graces. What was a shower with your wife without kissing? He opened the cabinet and took a swig of mouth wash. After a minute he spit it out and rinsed out the sink. Slipping off his shorts, he pulled back the curtain and got in with her. "There."

"Thank you." She was standing under the warm water.

"I really am sorry I kept you waiting for so long," he told her with a sad look on his face. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Can you forgive me?"

There was really no point in being upset. She was more scared then angry. "Yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Thank you," he said quietly as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I wish you would have just come with me."

"I know." He gave her a kiss. 

"Wash your hair good."

"I'm not a child."

"Yes, I know." Margaret pushed his hair back to get a good look at his face. He was looking better now. "You know..." She paused for a moment. "You're a very good looking man."

She had looked so serious when she said that. "You're not too bad yourself." He gave her a soft kiss. "Thank you for everything this morning."

"You don't have to thank me."

He felt like she did more for him than he did for her and had no idea why on earth she loved him like she did. He never doubted her love, but he just couldn't understand why she loved him so much. He didn't even like himself most of the time and here was this woman, standing naked in his arms, who loved him more than he ever imagined possible.

"We can do anything you want today," he told her as he held her securely around the waist. He moved his mouth to her ear, "Anything at all." He leaned down and kissed her neck.

"I just want to spend time with you," she told him as she rested her head against his shoulder. "That's all."

Hawkeye didn't know if that meant she didn't want to make love or not. He suddenly felt that hesitation creeping up on him again. "Oh."

Instantaneously Margaret knew what was bothering him, what had upset him last night. It had all been in his tone of voice. "Oh no! I didn't mean that!" She put her hand on his face and forced him to look at her. "You know I love making love to you, I didn't mean that at all."

The look on his face was a perplexing one. "You do?"

"Of course I do!" She kissed his lips. "Darling, I love you."

He was very tempted to ask why, but he didn't really want to know the answer. So instead he told her that he loved her too. She seemed to be satisfied with that because she rested her head against him and relaxed. It seemed like she was clinging to him, rather than the other way around. It felt good to be strong for a moment.

It occurred to Margaret that they were just standing there under the warm water holding onto one another. The hot water would only last so long and he deserved to clean up like she did. She looked up at him. "I'll wash your back for you."

He smiled and nodded. "That sounds good. I can feel the water getting colder already."

"Turn off some of the cold."

He listened and turned the cold water down. "Oooh, that's better," he said as he turned around.

Margaret picked up the soap and started to lather his back. Her hands moved over the smooth muscles in his shoulders and then down to his waist where she returned up by way of his sides. He really did have a gorgeous body. Not many women were lucky enough to have a man such as him.

"Where did you get this from?" She ran her hand over an unusual long scratch running down his arm.

"Where?" He brought his hand behind his back to where hers were. She placed his hand on the scratch. "Oh. I don't know."

"How can you not know?" It looked like it would have hurt. At least enough to notice that he caught on something.

"I must have gotten it working out in the garage yesterday."

"Oh. It doesn't hurt?"

"No." Hawkeye moved under the water and let some of the soap rinse off his back while he wetted his hair enough to lather it up with some shampoo. 

He turned to face her and she noticed another new mark on his forearm. "Honey, this looks pretty serious."

"No." Margaret gave him a skeptical look. "I changed the oil in the car yesterday. I got caught on something."

She had found a similar mark on his thigh not too long ago. Like now, he had no recollection of how he'd acquired it. He had a high thresh hold for physical pain. "Why don't you let me put a dressing on this when we get out?"

"Margaret, it's okay."

There was dried blood around the area; she'd have to check his T-shirt for stains. "I want to put some ointment on it so it doesn't become infected."

"You're washing it, that's good enough." There was a slight edge to his voice.

She placed a kiss on his back. "I'm allowed to worry about you, aren't I?"

He really didn't know what to say, he was torn. Hawkeye hated it that she worried about him like she did; but then again, she was the only one that cared. "Yes," he finally answered.

"I'm your wife." Her arms went around his waist. "It's my job to worry about you."

Hawkeye turned around and looked at her. "You don't need to worry so much. I'll know when I need to take care of a little cut. I used to be a very good doctor at one time."

She didn't like to think of that as something in the past. One day he would use his skills again, she was sure of it. "You still are."

"No." He didn't want to get into that with her again. There wasn't much they fought about, but that was a very touchy topic with the two of them.

She didn't say anything else but continued to soap up his chest and arms. There were a few scars here and there from various injuries, but she didn't notice any new ones. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." 

"I'll make us a nice lunch. Does that sound good?" She looked up at him.

"If you want." He was actually starving now. He was feeling a lot better and really wanted something hearty. Steak sounded good, but he didn't think she'd make that for lunch.

"I haven't made a meal all week." He had been nice enough to take care of everything.

"Don't worry about it." He didn't mind cooking supper. It seemed as though that was the only thing he really did for her.

"What do you feel like eating?" She was eager to make him a nice meal.

"I don't care." Hawkeye wasn't very decisive those days.

"I'll have to look and see what we have when we get out," she said as she washed his stomach. She loved running her hand over the muscles. Margaret had gotten quite a few compliments over him, all of which she knew were true. He was a very sexy man.

"Okay." He would eat anything she made. She was surprisingly a very good cook.

Margaret soaped up her hands, working them into a lather, and started washing up his right thigh. He really did have big thighs. The muscles were so tight. That weight bench she had bought him for Christmas last year was really getting use. She had thought it was a good way for him to work out some of his frustrations, but it had worked a lot better than she had imagined it would. She was very happy that he was using exercise as an outlet rather than drinking like he used to do.

Her hands moved across his body with ease and comfort. He never made her feel like she as doing anything wrong by lingering in one spot a little longer than she did. It was as if he enjoyed the touching and caressing. It put him at ease somehow. She was crouched down so she was eye level to his waist. When she looked up he had his eyes closed letting the hot water run over his face, calming him. 

She ran her hands down the backs of his thighs and calves. They were so tight and sculpted. She moved back up by way of his shins, over his knees and up to his pelvis. Her hands moved around to his lower back and then down over his firm buttocks. Margaret looked up again, his eyes were still closed. His face looked so calm.

She hated to disturb him and make him open his eyes, but she had one more place to wash. When she touched him there his eyes stayed closed much to her surprise. She didn't get much of a reaction from him at all. In a way she supposed that was good. At least he was still calm.

Margaret slowly stood to her feet running her hands up his sides. She let the water wash away the soap on her hands and arms. That was when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her body against his, giving her a tender kiss. She smiled at him. "I thought you were in another world."

"Nah, I was coming back to this one."

"Well good. Now I'm all soapy."

Hawkeye grinned and rubbed his body up and down against her. She started to giggle. "Now you're all scrubbed too."

"You are awfully bristly," she smirked. She doubted he had shaved the day before, possibly even the day before that.

"I could say the same for you," he lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'll have you know I did that while I was waiting for you," she told him. "My legs are very smooth."

"Mmm, I can think of something else that's smooth." She felt his hand move to her behind and cup a cheek in his palm.

Margaret giggled and mimicked his previous action. "Oooh, very nice." She squeezed him gently.

"Well, I do try," he smiled. 

"Or maybe you've just had a lot of ass kissing," she smirked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Real funny." She had no idea what her teasing meant to him. He was feeling better and she could tell. "You, Mrs. Pierce, have the only ass I would even consider kissing."

"Well good. The water's getting cold." She pointed out the obvious.

"It won't hurt you."

"But it's cold. I need to rinse this soap off me."

"I didn't even get to wash you." He was very disappointed. If he had a chance he could make their shower a lot more fun.

"You can do it later." She gave him a kiss and pulled out of his arms to rinse. "I promise."

"Oooh, does that mean I get to give you a reason?" He had that familiar old look on his face. Margaret's heart warmed when she saw it.

"It has to be a really good one," she grinned at him from under the water.

"Isn't it always?" He gave her a grin that reflected her own.

"You said you'd do anything I wanted." It was so nice to see him smile again.

"Ah, that I did." 

Margaret turned off the water. "Would you hand me a towel please?"

Hawkeye opened the curtain and grabbed a towel off the rack and handed it to her. "You know, you don't have to get dressed," he said as he watched her dry her breasts and then arms.

She cocked an eyebrow and glanced at him. "I'm going to cook us lunch."

"Well..." He looked her up and down. "I would hate for you to burn something."

"Yes, so would I." She wrapped her towel around herself and tossed him one. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure." He stepped out of the tub and wrapped the towel low on his waist. 

"Shave." She brushed her hand across his cheek. "I like kissing a man with a smooth face."

"We'll see." He gave her a kiss making sure to brush his stubble against her.

"Honey," she whined. "That hurt."

"Oh it did not." She stuck her bottom lip out, pouting. "Aww. I'll fix it." He kissed all around her face. "There you go. Is that better?"

She nodded. "Thank you. Now will you shave for me?"

"I'll consider it."

"Then you won't be kissing me anytime soon," she called back to him as she sashayed out of the bathroom.

"Hey! That's not fair!"

"Then you better shave, hadn't you?" She hated it when they made love and he had long bristles on his face. It made the intimate kissing painful rather than pleasurable. She hated getting whisker burns on her breasts and stomach.

"Yeah..." He mumbled something else which she couldn't hear.

Margaret didn't take much care into getting dressed. She put on an old shirt and a pair of shorts. If he had his way, and he usually got it, she wouldn't be wearing clothes for long. Walking back into the bathroom, she saw him standing at the sink, shaving his right cheek. She hung the towel on the rack and then stood beside him as she watched. "Thank you honey," she said to him.

Hawkeye glanced over at her. "It was starting to get long anyway."

She wanted to comment on his hair as long as they were on the subject, but she decided him shaving for her was enough to be asking at the moment. "I'm going to start making lunch." She kissed his bicep. "Is there anything that you can think of that you want?"

"Anything is fine with me," he said as he shaved the underside of his jaw.

"Are you sure?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Okay." She knew he had to be hungry and wanted to make him something nice. She hadn't cooked anything recently, but their house was full of food so she had many choices. "I'll pick something good for you."

"Us." He called as she walked out. 

"You," she yelled back. It didn't matter to her what they ate, but he needed something good. A nice meal always made him feel better.

Margaret searched through the kitchen to see what she could find while he was finishing up in the bathroom. He came out wearing a pair of shorts and smelling very masculine. She heard his bare feet hitting against the wood floors. "What did you find?"

"What do you think of steak?"

"I take it that we're having a light dinner?" He gave her a soft smile. "Steak sounds wonderful."

"Good." That made Margaret happy. She wanted him to be satisfied with this meal. Margaret knew how much he liked steak. "I was also thinking of frying up some potatoes."

"Sounds delicious."

A nice glass of wine would have been lovely with their steak, but they didn't keep alcohol in the house. After being dependant on it for so long, Hawkeye had given up alcohol all together. And in being a supportive wife, Margaret didn't drink it either.

"Can I do something to help?" He asked as he watched her pull the meat out of the freezer.

"You can dice the potatoes if you like."

"Alright." Hawkeye grabbed a few of them and stood at the counter and started to cut them up. Margaret stopped and watched his hands move. It seemed so silly but she loved to watch his hands work. He was very at ease with the sharp knife in his hand. "Hey, are you okay?" He noticed her watching him.

"Yes." She pulled out a pan from under the counter. "Why do you smell so good?"

"What?" He chuckled.

"You smell really good. We're not even going anywhere."

"Well I feel good." He leaned over and kissed her. "Will you get a pan for these?"

Margaret didn't know what had happened to change his demeanor. Had it been the caressing in the shower? He hadn't even been aroused by that. "Of course." She bent down and pulled out another pan.

"Thank you," he smiled at her cheerfully.

So now Margaret was very perplexed. Had he been afraid that she didn't want to be with him? His mood seemed to have changed after she told him. Then again, she didn't even know what had upset him the night before. "Do we have anything to drink?" She asked.

"I made some iced tea yesterday."

"Oh, that sounds good." She hoped he'd sliced some lemon too.

"There's some lemon on the second shelf," he told her.

Margaret smiled and leaned against the counter. "You're pretty wonderful, you know that?"

Hawkeye had never thought of himself as anything remotely wonderful. "It's just iced tea."

"I love you." She stepped closer and pulled his head down so she could kiss him sensually. 

"Mmm," he smiled at her. "I love you too." 

"How about I make dinner and you can feel free to do nothing?""No, I want to be with you. I want to help you." 

"Are you sure? You don't want to go relax?"He shook his head no. "Did you want me out of your way?" Now he wasn't so sure he was welcome in the kitchen.

"You're not in my way." She wrapped her arms around him. "I'd rather have you with me." She kissed him. "I'd take you to work with me if I could."

He chuckled. He could just see himself now. "Well I don't know about that." Some days he did feel like following her, but for the most part he was okay. 

"That's true. There are way too many nurses that would be eying you. I don't like that."

"I thought they were all terrified of me." And he had given them plenty of reason to be.

"I overheard them talking about how sexy you were." At the time Margaret hadn't known whether to be mad or amused.

"Me?" He didn't see himself as desirable.

"You are very handsome," she told him sincerely. "And a really good lay."

"I'm already married to you; you don't have to worry about winning me over."

"Well, I'm not as young or nearly attractive as those girls."

"You are beautiful." There wasn't the least bit of amusement in his voice. "So beautiful."

She shook her head no. "I..."

Before she had the chance to say anything else he stopped her. He had her face cupped in his hands and made her looked directly into his eyes. "You are the most gorgeous woman on earth. No one compares to you."

"I'm over thirty years old."

"Barely, but that doesn't matter in the least." He kissed her tenderly.

She had often seen young women admiring her husband. There were times it didn't bother her because she was the one wearing his ring, but other times it would get to her. "They were talking about you like I don't deserve you." It had been bothering her for a while now, but she wasn't sure how to bring it up.

"If they knew the things you do for me they'd realize I'm the one that doesn't deserve you."

Tears started to form in her eyes. "No honey, that's not true."

"Margaret, you're beautiful. When I look at you I feel like the luckiest man in the world."

"You do?"

"Yes," he told her softly. "I do."

Margaret tried to withhold the overwhelming urge to start crying. "I..." There were so many emotions that she had been repressing. "I..."

"Shhh." He moved his arms around her. As much as he hated to see her cry, it felt good to be the strong one for once.

"I feel so foolish." It came out muffled through his shirt.

He rubbed her back. "There's nothing to feel foolish about."

"If you say so." She laid her head against him and relaxed. 

"Would I lie to you?"

"No." She could hear his heart beating. "I don't ever want to lose you."

"You won't." He kissed the side of her head. 

"I get so..."

"I understand." She didn't need to tell him how she felt. He knew exactly what she was feeling. Sometimes he got so caught up in himself that he forgot she had plenty of her own insecurities. 

"I'm so glad the weekend is here."

"So am I." He leaned back a bit to look at her face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She smiled at him. "I like it when you tell me I'm beautiful."

"Well you are." He gave her a kiss. Knowing that she needed him for something made him feel a little better about himself. "Maybe I should cook this and you can relax."

"No." She pulled out of his arms. "I want to do it." Margaret turned the stove on and placed the steaks in the pan. 

"Well," he put his hands on her shoulders. "Why don't we relax together afterwards?"

She put her hand on top of his. "That was my plan."

He leaned down and kissed her neck. "And then later...I get to do the washing in the shower."

Margaret smiled. "I don't know, you seemed to like it more than I would."

"All the more reason."

Margaret was rather enjoying his affection and playfulness. "We'll see."

"We'll see?"

"It all depends on how well you do the dishes."

"Why don't we forget about the dishes," he suggested. "There's something I can think of that we need to catch up on."

"Our taxes?"

"Cute." He should have expected some sort of smart remark from her. "No. Something a lot more important than that."

"That's true. There is something more important." She moved to pull a fork out of a drawer. "We have a big pile of clothes in the bathroom that need to get washed. Those sheets really need to..."

"Margaret," he cut her off. "You're getting closer and closer to taking a shower alone again."

She turned her head to him. "I highly doubt that."

"Oh? What makes you so sure about that?" He jumped up on the counter and popped a piece of potato in his mouth.

"I just am." Her voice was full of confidence. "Stop eating those." She slapped his hand. 

"I'm starving."

"You have to starve a little longer. Would you mind bringing the laundry out? I'm going to grab the mail before it starts raining again."

Hawkeye made a face, why did they have to do laundry now? "On one condition."

"And what would that be?"

"I want you to kiss me."

Margaret smiled at him. "What have we been doing all morning?"

"No." He slid off the counter. "I want a real kiss." One of those passionate, I need you now, take me before I burst into flames kind of kisses. The kind he got when she was begging him to pull down his pants.

"I can't dip you," she grinned.

He put his arms around her waist. "Just one good kiss."

"One of your kisses and we won't get to the steak."

"That's okay too."

"No," she smiled. "Just a moment ago you were telling me you were starving."

"Come on, one good kiss."

"It's going to start raining and then our mail will be all wet."

"That's why we have a mailbox." Hawkeye wouldn't let her go. 

Margaret gave him a quick peck on the lips. "There, now you can let me go."

"I don't think so. I've had a better kiss from a dog."

"Well I'd like to know how you kiss a dog." She raised an eyebrow.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "You're not going to kiss me, are you?"

"Not like you want. We'll end up on this floor with burnt food and wet mail." Margaret pulled his head down and gave him a kiss to hold him over. She let his tongue into her mouth, but then pulled away while she still had the resistance. "Don't forget the sheets." She was already heading to the front door.

Bill, bill, letter from her sister, bill, notice, unmarked envelope addressed to resident, magazine, magazine, magazine. Margaret was shuffling through the mail as she walked through the house. There were a couple of letters on the bottom. Probably just the same old thing. She set them down on the table in the hallway when he called out to her.

"No, those can go on cold!" She shouted down the stairs to him. Margaret picked up the pile of mail again and continued thumbing through it.

She tossed the magazines back on the table and then examined the envelopes the bills came in. Why did they always seem to come at the same time? It always served to drain their bank account just when she felt like they were doing pretty good financially. The bills could wait for Monday when Hawkeye could take care of it.

Margaret thought twice about opening the letter from her sister, but she had just talked to her two days ago. Her sister had a bad habit of calling right after she put a letter in the mail and telling Margaret all about it before it got there. Upon deciding she knew what was in the letter she tossed it to the side along with the bills and junk mail.

There was one letter that she had neglected to take notice of earlier. It was in a crisp, white envelope, curiously addressed in a fancy calligraphy style type writing. _To Dr. and Mrs. Benjamin Pierce. _Oddly enough, there was no return address.

"Is it all soaked?" He had come up from the basement.

She leafed through the pile. "Just a few sprinkles worth." Although those clouds had looked pretty threatening.

"Thank goodness," he said in an exaggerated tone and wiped his brow. 

Margaret grinned. "That pan should be just about ready for those potatoes."

"You want me to do those too?"

"What?" 

"I get to start the laundry and finish cooking lunch while you grabbed the mail. That doesn't sound fair to me." He picked up the pile she had sat down. "Why do we have so much?"

"Who knows." Margaret walked toward the kitchen placing the letters on the table so she could put the potatoes in the pan. 

Hawkeye stood in the hallway for a moment flipping through the mail. He was less then enthused with all the bills, but the magazines caught his eye. "Hey honey, look at this." He walked into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the small table in the breakfast nook. 

"Hmm?" She looked up from the card she held in her hand.

"Look." He sat down, but noticed she wasn't paying any attention to him. Whatever was in that card had captivated her. "What do you have there?" 

"Oh um," she had momentarily lost her train of thought. "It's uh..." Margaret was hesitant to share it with him. "It's from the O'Reillys."

"Oh." He pretended not to care. He flipped through the magazine trying not to focus on what she had in her hand. 

"Do you want to read it?"

"No." He didn't look up. 

Well, so far it had gone better then she had anticipated it would. Although, he had that familiar gleam in his eye. "What did you want to show me?"

He had been sitting there, starring blankly at the open magazine. "Oh uh..." He stood up. "It was nothing."

"Are you sure?" She placed the card on the table close to the center so he could see it if he looked.

"Yeah."

Margaret didn't like how his mood changed so quickly, but she couldn't change that now. "I think you should read it."

"I don't want to read it." His voice was calm, but he still wasn't looking at her.

"Honey, I think you should."

He glanced over his shoulder. "I don't need to."

"I think you do this time."

The solemn look on her face sent him mixed emotions. In past situations she had been aggressive, making no hesitation in fighting him, but this time...it almost worried him. "I don't want to know," he said in a firm tone.

Margaret sighed. The needed to talk about it. This affected the both of them. "It's an invitation," she said, picking it up.

His body tensed. Not another one, begging them to come to some damn reunion, just so they could all get drunk and laugh at the war. "They can all go to hell for all I care."

"You don't mean that." Margaret hated when he got this way. Every time there was a letter from anyone of them she had to fight with him just to read it. He refused to reply to a single one so that left her writing letters for the two of them. 

"Yes I do." Why would he want to see an invitation? He could guess what it was and exactly how it was going to turn out. He didn't need that and it made him mad that she would even consider such a thing knowing how he felt."There's a note in here addressed only to you."He looked up at her. "No."

Margaret placed the letter in front of him and stood up to get back to cooking the meal. "Radar's getting married."

Why did she have to say that? He would have been better off not knowing what was going on. This was only going to make him feel guilty when he didn't show up. "We're not going."

Margaret had known that was coming. "Please, read the note."

"I don't want to read that damn note!"

The only thing that concerned her about going to the wedding was the attention they would attract. They hadn't attended a single affair in over two years. And then there was her husband...

"I think we should go." She wasn't going to fight with him on this. Margaret was determined to remain calm.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

The wedding was not a friendly topic in the Pierce household, but that didn't stop Margaret from bringing it up whenever she found the opportunity. She would conveniently leave the letter in a place where Hawkeye could see it. That note that was addressed to him was making it worse because she wanted to know what was in it. Everyone always addressed letters to the two of them. Her father was the only exception to that. He would still use her maiden name and forget that Hawkeye even existed. It was killing her not to know what was in that note.

Hawkeye hated getting mail from any of them. He and his wife were just fine without them. Even a letter from them would disrupt their lives, and this just proved it again. 

Margaret had to press the subject, as painful and difficult as it was. Her husband didn't belong there, she knew that. This was a different man from the one they had known. He wasn't the one they wanted, they would be looking for someone else.

"Honey," she touched his arm. "I really do think you should read it."

He turned his head and looked at her. "I'm not going to read it." His voice was very soft.

"Radar wouldn't have addressed it to you if it wasn't important."

"I will not read the fucking letter." For such a nasty reply, he had remained quite calm.

"You can't just ignore it." She was getting frustrated with him.

"I can, and I will."

"Hawkeye..."

"I don't want to have a single damn thing to do with any of them."

"This is about Radar's wedding." She couldn't understand where this hatred was coming from.

"Look, if it's so important, you read it," he told her. "Other wise, it's going into the trash."

She sighed. "I don't understand why you're being like this. Radar never did anything to you."

"Drop it." He turned his attention back to the television. Margaret stood up and shut the TV off. "Hey, I was watching that!"

"I don't care." She stood there in front of him, hands on hips staring down at him. Maybe if she tried intimidation it would work. 

"Turn it back on." 

"No."

"Margaret." His voice was deep and getting angry. "Turn it on and get out of the way."

"I will not." She stood her ground. "We're going to talk about this." They had danced around the topic most of the weekend and she was sick and tired of it. 

"No, we're not." Hawkeye stood up and walked out the back door. He didn't want to fight with her and he didn't want anything to do with any of those people. Especially Radar. 

Margaret followed after him, picking up the letter off the table, and walked outside. He was standing in the middle of the yard with his hands on his hips. "If you won't read it, then I'm going to read it to you." She held up the envelope. Hawkeye turned around. "Whether you want to hear it or not."

"Margaret..." His eyes were narrowed.

"I won't let you just ignore it."

"Put it down," he said told her. "Now."

Looking at him she said, "Hawkeye, we have to talk about this."

"I've already told you, we're not going."

She ripped open the envelope and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper. "Do you want to read it or shall I?"

"Stop it." He turned away and walked toward the shed that was further back. She didn't have any shoes on and he didn't think she'd follow him across the yard without them. He was wrong.

"Hawkeye! Don't walk away from me."

"Go away."

Margaret stepped off the porch and started after him. He wasn't going to run away from this. "I guess I'll read it to you."

Hawkeye heard her unfold the letter and spun around. "Don't you dare."

She ignored him. "Dear Hawk..."

"Margaret!" He yelled at her. He didn't normally raise his voice with her, but that didn't seem to matter to her at the moment. She continued on.

"I wanted you to be the first to know so I'm sending you this a few days before we send out the others."

Hawkeye was furious. "I don't want to know." He ripped the piece of paper out of her hand.

Margaret stood tall; she had been expecting that he would do that. His eyes were black, almost cat like. He was in such a rage that he looked close to tears. His chest was heaving in anger and frustration. "I want to go." She told him.

His eyes darted to her face. She couldn't tell if he was going to yell or break down. The look told her that he was neither. He looked almost murderous. "No," he said flatly.

Realizing that her efforts were futile she said, "I'm not having this conversation with you out here." Granted it was a big yard, but the neighbors would still be able to hear them.

"We're not having this conversation at all." 

"Oh yes we are." She turned and walked back to the house leaving him out there alone with the letter still in his hand. 

Hawkeye turned away from her, his chest still heaving in anger. She knew how he felt and yet she was still pushing him. She had never pressed this issue like this before. Any other time she had been the understanding wife and made up some sort of excuse for them not to go. Hawkeye had told her many times to tell them all to go to hell, but she insisted on communicating with them and look where it got them now. 

He shoved the piece of paper into the back pocket of his shorts and went toward the porch. Fighting with her wasn't something he wanted to do. It was probably the worst thing in the world to him. After taking a couple of deep breaths he slumped down on the top step rubbing his temples. His head was throbbing now and she had to make it worse. 

Margaret couldn't stand when he was like this. No one could talk to him; he wouldn't listen to a word she had to say. He was just so damn stubborn. She had stood by him when he declined other invitations, but not this time. This time they were going whether he liked it or not.

The whole weekend had been wasted. And on what? That damn letter! Just thinking about it enraged him. Their only time to be together, and they'd spent it arguing. They hadn't made love since Friday evening. It was killing him. He wanted her to touch him, but she wouldn't even do that. 

When he walked into the house an hour later that note was still in his back pocket. He hadn't touched it, only thought about it. Margaret was standing in the kitchen pulling plates from the cabinet when he entered the kitchen. She didn't bother to look at him or say anything. He wasn't sure what there was to say. He didn't want to go, and that was all there was to it. 

Margaret sat the plates on the counter and placed two cheeseburgers on them. She glanced at him, but continued for the small table that sat in the bay window. "I made you something to eat."

He couldn't figure out why she would cook for him if she was mad at him. "Thank you." He watched her walk past him and grab two glasses filled with water. 

"Are you going to sit down?"

"Yes." He said it in a normal tone, where as hers had been a little sharp. Hawkeye walked over to the table and took a seat.

Margaret followed and set a glass of water in front of him. "Do you want ketchup too?"

"No thank you."

She pulled out the adjacent chair and sat down beside him. "Will you pass me the salt?" Hawkeye picked it up and handed it to her. "Thank you."

They ate in silence, each thinking about the invitation. Margaret wanted to go; she wanted to see her old friends. Her husband might have resented them, but they meant a lot to her. He wouldn't even consider reading the letter, not even for her. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

Hawkeye stood up; it was obvious that she didn't want to have anything to do with him. He threw his plate in the sink and continued out the back door. She wouldn't say a word to him; only stare at him while he was looking away from her. Everything she did was just to piss him off more. 

Margaret tensed up when he walked away like he did. Her first instinct was to go after him and fight him, but she knew that wasn't the right thing to do. She gave herself a few minutes to calm down and then stepped out onto the back porch. She let out a very audible sigh when she saw him. "Why do you..."

Hawkeye held up his free hand. "Don't even go there."

"I just don't see why you..."

"Margaret, don't." His voice was stern. 

"We're not dropping it this time," she told him.

"Oh yes we are." He looked away from her and started to walk in the opposite direction.

"I want to go." She'd said it on impulse, not sure of what else to say.

Hawkeye stopped and looked at her. "You what?"

"I want to go to the wedding." She tried to sound firm.

The pupils in his eyes dilated. "We're not going." He said slowly.

Margaret hated that look. She thought it made him look homicidal. "We haven't seen Radar in over three years. This is his wedding." Where had all this hatred come from?

"You really want to go?" Margaret nodded. "Why? You know exactly what it's going to be like."

"How can you say that? We haven't seen any of them for such a long time."

He didn't like how her voice was getting softer. That was starting to break down his barriers. "I know what it will be like and I don't want to have to put up with all of that."

"Not even for Radar?"

He shook his head. "Not for anyone." He walked over and sat on the porch steps, flicking some ashes in the grass as he walked. 

She stood in the moonlight looking at him. "Not even me?"

Hawkeye looked up at her. "That's not fair."

She walked over to him. "Will you put that out?" She snapped.

"I'm not done." He blew out a puff of smoke.

She growled. "I wish you would stop that."

"I wish you would stop this conversation," he said quickly.

"We need to talk about this." She wasn't going to give it up.

"No we don't." The anger in his voice was rising.

A rush of boldness came over her. "I'm going to accept."

"Margaret," he stood up. "We don't belong there."

"Well, I'm going."

"No," he said as if it was an order.

"I am going and I'm going to have a good time. I want to see them, Hawkeye. Aren't you curious how they've changed?"

"No."

"Don't you want to meet their families?"

"Look, I don't care anymore. I don't want to know what they're doing or who they've become."

She breathed deeply looking directly into his eyes. "You'll be here alone then."

He stared at her. He knew he couldn't be without her. This wasn't fair. "Why are you doing this?"

"They're our friends. We've been invited to so many things and each time I've stood by you when you said you didn't want to go, but this is too much. Radar wants you there more than anything. That boy would do whatever you asked of him, but you refuse to go to his wedding. You know what you mean to him."

"He wants a different person. Not me." He took one last puff.

"I want you." She put her hand on his chest. "Please, honey."

He hated it when she did that. "But they don't," he said softly looking her in the eye.

"Yes they do," she told him sincerely.

"They don't want me! They want someone else, someone who I'm not!" He threw his cigarette on the ground.

Margaret knew this was going to happen. "They've changed too," she told him. "Why don't you give them a chance?"

"They've changed!" He turned and pulled at his hair. "We're not going!"

"Why won't you even read the letter?" She demanded. He was upsetting the both of them. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Fine." He spun around and threw the letter at her. "You read it. Just leave me out of it." 

She caught the crumpled piece of paper before it his the wet ground. "This is about you."

"I don't care." He walked in the house letting the screen door slam.

She walked up on the porch where there was more light and began to read the letter. Radar was practically begging Hawkeye to go to this. Margaret felt sorry for the young man. Hawkeye was being so stubborn about this and it would break Radar's heart if he didn't show. 

When she went inside Hawkeye was sitting at the table holding the invitation in his hand. She sat down, touching his hand gently. "We can't hide from them."

"If you didn't insist on communicating with them then we could have."

"Honey, there's nothing to be afraid of. These people will not harm you."

His eyes met hers. "You don't know that."

Margaret could see the venerability and fear in his eyes. He was genuinely afraid. "They're our friends."

Hawkeye looked at their hands. He missed their closeness. He missed her. "That man is gone," he said wearily.

"Ben, you are the same man that I fell in love with in Korea." She covered his hand with both of hers. "And the same man that I married."

"He's dead," he said blankly.

She hated to hear him talk like that. "No, he's right here with me."

His eyes shifted to look at her. "I was just an annoyance to them," he said coldly. "They didn't want me."

"Why don't you look at that letter from Radar? You'll see how much he wants you there. He's inviting you to his wedding, not a 4077th reunion."

"Yes, but they'll all be there. Everyone loved Radar." It may as well be a reunion. As soon as the ceremony was over it would be like the wedding never happened and everyone would get drunk and talk about the past. The past was something he was trying to break away from; he didn't want to relive the war in stories. He had enough of that in his dreams.

"You loved Radar once. I believe you still do."

He shook his head. "Look, I'll read the letter and I'll even write back declining the invitation. How's that?"

"Honey," she was calm, trying to get him to remain that way. "I want to go to this and I want you to be there with me. I don't want to go alone, but I will if I have to." She knew very well that he wasn't going to stay home without her for days at a time. He didn't even like letting her go when she went to work in the mornings. 

Hawkeye pulled his hand from hers and stood up. "Why? What is so important about this one? You never had any problem turning the others down."

"It's time now."

He ran his fingers through his hair and let his hand rest on the back of his neck. She was looking up at him with those blue eyes that had so much trust in him. He didn't want to go, but she was draining the fight out of him. "I still don't want to go."

"I know." She stood up and gave him a hug. "I'll make it worth your while, I promise."

Hawkeye stood there stiff for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her. He let out a deep sigh. She felt so good and it felt wonderful to have her wrap her arms around him like that. They had spent the night before on separate sides of the same bed and spent most of their waking hours fighting over this wedding. Nothing in this world could make him want to go, but he'd go for her and only her. 

"I don't want to see them, any of them." He rested his head on her shoulder. She was rubbing his back and it was making him delirious.

"I know sweetheart." She ran her hand up his neck and threaded her fingers through the back of his hair. "But I miss them."

Hawkeye sighed. It angered him to hear her say those things. "I don't want to go to Iowa."

"We're going to go together. Don't you want to go with me?"

"I'd rather you stay home."

"I know, but we'll be okay. It might help."

He picked his head up and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "No. It won't."

"Don't be so negative." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

"Margaret, I'm not going to the wedding," he said in a stern manner.

"I want to see Radar get married," she told him seriously. She put a hand on his neck. "I want to see Colonel Potter again." It had hurt her so much to say goodbye to them, especially him. "I want to see Klinger's children."

His eyes narrowed. He suddenly understood what this was about. "You want to get away from me." He pulled away from her abruptly. Margaret's hands fell to her sides.

"No, of course not." She needed him more then he knew. "I need you with me."

"You don't want to be seen with a lunatic." 

"Don't talk like that."

"You'd be better off alone. At least you wouldn't be getting as many stares and people whispering behind your back. You know they'll do that if I'm there."

"Honey, I want you there. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" She put her arms around his torso. "It'll give us a chance for a little vacation."

"That will not be a vacation. I can already tell you that." 

She wanted him to see the good things. He was focusing on all the negative. "We'll be in a hotel all alone."

"We have a house to ourselves here."

"Yes, but we'll have room service there."

"I don't mind cooking and doing a little cleaning."

She sighed. "I won't have to go into work. We can sleep in together."

That did sound nice, he had to admit that. Margaret thought she could see him breaking down. She knew he would never completely give in, but once he passed a certain point they wouldn't fight over it. "I don't know..."

Margaret put her hand on his stomach. "I'll make it up to you."

"There's nothing you can do," he said sadly.

"There has to be something." She let her hand wonder lower.

"I know exactly what's going to happen," he told her. He'd be singled out again, like he'd always been. He hated being the point of their ridicule.

"Don't think about them." She didn't want to go without her husband. "Think about us."

"I am thinking about us." He played with her hair, twirling it around his finger. "If you're going to take time off why can't we go somewhere else?"

"Would you prefer Maine?"

"No!" He didn't want to go back there right now. It was too hard. 

"What would you suggest?"

"A deserted island."

She smiled. "I don't think we could afford to buy one of those."

"Then let's stay home and save up."

She frowned slightly. "Honey, it could be fun. I really want to see them. We've only seen pictures of their children. Don't you want to meet Peg and Mrs. Potter?"

He didn't have anything against them. "Margaret, please don't do this to me."

"I want you to go with me." She pulled his head down and kissed him gently tasting the cigarette on his mouth. She rolled her eyes. "That is so gross."

He started to laugh. "I'm sorry. I didn't tell you to kiss me."

Margaret found it revolting. For such a popular habit, it sure was disgusting. "I shouldn't have to ask to kiss my husband."

"I shouldn't have to beg my wife to help me."

Oh, that hurt. The way he said it, it just cut at her. "Honey, that's not fair."

"You want to know what's not fair?" He said to her. His eyes were suddenly narrowed. "Putting me in a situation, which you know I can't handle."

She gasped at the accusation. "I would never ask you to go with me if I thought you couldn't handle it. That was the reason I agreed to turn down all the other invitations."

"I can't handle this either."

"Yes you can. I know you can. You're so much stronger now."

Her voice held such confidence when she said that. He almost believed her in that instance, but he knew better. He also knew that he couldn't bear to go for days without seeing her and touching her. Fighting like this was enough to kill him, or at least that's what it felt like. "I don't think I can do it," he sighed heavily.

"I know you can." She looked directly into his eyes. "We can do it together."

He shook his head. "No."

"Why won't you try? It's been two years since it all ended."

"It hasn't ended for me!" He snapped.

Margaret didn't say anything for a moment. No matter what she said, it would never be enough. "I'm going to the wedding."

"Haven't you been listening to me?" He bellowed. "I can't do it." His voice deepened and he knitted his brow in anger and frustration. "I refuse to go, and that's final."

She hated it when he gave her ultimatums. "I'm not going make you," she told him. Margaret was tired of fighting with him. They'd wasted the entire weekend. If he didn't want to go, she wasn't going to make him. "I'll just go by myself."

"What?" He felt his heart quicken at the thought. "No."

Margaret knew very well that she couldn't leave him alone. She'd had reoccurring nightmares that she'd come him to find him sprawled across the floor in the den. Thinking about it made her stomach queasy. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"Margaret, I don't want to be here alone." He was speaking fast. "I don't want to be without you. Please don't go."

"I wish you would come with me. I don't want to go alone either."

He sighed. He looked like he was about to cry. The thought of being without her was too much. "Stay home."

"I'm going. It's up to you if you want to be with me."

"It's not you. I always want to be with you." He thought about her every second of the day. "Please stay home."

She shook her head. "You have to decide if you want to stay here alone or come with me." It was in that instant that she wasn't sure what he would do. Before that she had been so sure that he would agree to go with her because he couldn't stay alone, but not anymore. She couldn't read him at the moment.

"I can't go." He paused for a moment. "But I can't be without you more."

She was trying to fight a smile. "Does that mean you'll go?"

He nodded. "But that doesn't mean I'll like it."

Margaret hugged him, she was so relieved. That haunting image had continued to run though her mind; those cold, lifeless eyes starring blankly at the ceiling. "Thank you darling," she breathed against his chest.

Hawkeye was starring at the wall. Images of Korea were flashing before his eyes. _Leave it to Pierce to do something so tasteless. _Every little thing was coming back to him. _The man is a Neanderthal. _None of them had ever really cared. He was just a joke to them. No one had ever taken him or his work seriously.

"I'm not going to see them," he told her, his eyes were still fixated on the wall. 

Margaret lifted her head. "I want you to stay with me." She didn't want to let him out of her sight, not even once.

"I'll stay at the hotel."

"No, you're going where I go." She made him look at her. "I will make sure that you are okay."

"You can't guarantee that." 

"Yes I can." Her voice was full of confidence. "We're always there for each other. I'll need you too."

He stared at her for a moment. She needed him with her? Why was she willing to go on her own if she needed him so much? "No you don't."

"I do." She held him tightly. "I need you more than you could even imagine."

Hawkeye stroked her hair gently. "If you say so." He was very doubtful that that statement had any truth to it. 

Margaret rubbed his chest with her right hand for a moment. "Why don't we go sit down?" This was the most touching they had done all weekend.

"I think I'm going to go brush my teeth," he told her. His tone was still very soft, as were his eyes.

"Okay." She moved her hand down to his. "I think I will too." 

"You're fine."

She shook her head. "I can taste it." She made a face.

"I'm sorry." He squeezed her hand. "I know how much you hate it."

"We don't have to discuss that now." She didn't want to fight with him anymore. They had a couple of more hours before they would be in bed. She had to be at the hospital early the next morning and needed her rest after the previous night's restlessness. 

Hawkeye let go of her hand when they reached the bathroom and passed her, her toothbrush. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." She leaned forward to kiss him but stopped herself.

"I don't want to lose you," he told her.

She put her hand on his arm and rubbed him reassuringly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you."

"I love you too." Again she leaned in to kiss him. "Hmm." She stopped herself and bit her lip.

Hawkeye turned on the water and wet his tooth brush. "Just a minute." He wanted to kiss those rosy lips of hers so badly. He put some toothpaste on his brush and then some on hers. 

"Thank you."

As soon as they were finished Hawkeye smiled at her and then ran his tongue across his teeth. "Nice and smooth."

"Mmmm, let me try." She put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him down for a kiss. She made a point of running her tongue along every tooth in his mouth before she pulled back. "They are smooth and you taste so much better."

"Good," he breathed and pulled her back in for a long kiss.

Margaret's arms went around his back as she leaned into him. He felt so good. She missed his touch. "Mmm." 

His hands were on her back, pressing her against him. There was a void inside him that needed to be mended. He needed to know that she still wanted him.

She didn't fight him and was hoping that he would take the steps to move them closer to love making. So far he was doing an admirable job. His hands were gentle and yet firm on her back. His lips weren't quite desperate, but they weren't far from it either. Their breathing was already getting ragged. 

"Honey," she tried breaking the kiss. "Mmmm, Hawk?"

"Yeah?" His hands had moved up her back and held her head pressing her lips to his.

"There's a..." He wouldn't let her speak. "Wait."

"No." He was mumbling into her mouth.

"The oven." She managed to say a couple of words.

The oven? Was she crazy? They were in the bathroom. What could possibly be so important about the oven?

"I left the broiler on," she told him then. As much as she wanted to go on, she couldn't very well let the house burn down.

Hawkeye sighed and let her go. Finally, when they were just starting to get into it, something had to stop them. "Okay." He put a hand on his face.

"I'll be right back." She pulled him close again, pushing his hand aside, and gave him a short but intense kiss before rushing out. 

Margaret quickly shut things off. She didn't want to ruin the mood and wanted to get back to him as quick as possible before his mood changed again. She ran back to find him and he was on the bed already. His eyes were closed."I'm back.""I know."She crawled onto the bed. "How did you know that? Your eyes are closed." She straddled his body.He looked at her. "You walk loud." He could hear her feet on the floors all the way across the house.

"I beg your pardon." She leaned down so their noses were almost touching. "I'll have you know." Her eyes looked down at his lips. "I am a very quiet woman," she said as their lips moved closer.

"I think graceful is better suited," he mumbled before they kissed. Margaret moaned into his mouth and let her body relax completely on top of him.

"I like that better." He was very good at saying just the right things. Their legs were tangled and he was already pushing her shirt up her back. She knew that he had missed their closeness as much as she did. His movements had a sense of urgency and need that she knew was more then sexual desire. He needed her emotionally and she hadn't been there for him for over twenty four hours. That was a lot harder for him then anyone could imagine.

His body was burning again, but this time for a good reason. She had him on fire with her kisses and touches. When she would brush a fallen hair back he would get shivers down his spine. Each time she kissed him he felt a burning deep inside him. Hawkeye never thought it was possible to love someone as much as he loved her, but he had been proven wrong.


End file.
